Tangled Lies

by Tayce Skye

* * *

Rating: PG-13.

Spoilers: All of Season 1 and maybe the first episode or two of Season 2 (based on info from spoiler sites).

Summary: Post ATY. Will be AU after Season 2 starts. My version of what might happen in (and after) Taipei. Last time on "Tangled Lies"... Will discovers that Jason Kendall, Francie's new beau, is suspected of three horrendous murders. Sydney is alerted and she finds out from Vaughn that Jason works for the CIA. Katrina discovers Tyler dead and a note signed by David Sark.

Pairings: Sark/Katrina kinda. Francie/Jason mentioned.

Distribution: Sure, but don't forget to email me first at teague1350@hotmail.com. I'd also appreciate a link.

Disclaimer: I own this story along with Katrina Hunt. Alias is not mine. It belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, etc. No copyright infringement was intended.

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David:

When I saw Katrina consorting with the... other, I was--I'm not quite sure what exactly. Like someone ripped my innards away. Like my organs collapsed. Globus Hystericus. It's the medical name for that unpleasant sensation, your throat closing... unable to breathe... choking the life out of you.

Maybe our employer had been correct after all. She softened me.

Irina wasn't pleased. I suppose being held by the CIA isn't exactly a dream. But this--this was betrayal, we both knew. Something needed to be done.

Alexander protested, of course. Because that's his little girl.

Her broken vows obscure my judgement, her sly hand squeezes my heart. She swore loyalty to me. And to Irina. Traded us both in for a brand new life with that precious Michael Vaughn and the... other.

I volunteered. Just another assassination, I told myself. No other reason motivated me, none at all. The little voice hissing smugly at the back of my mind said otherwise. Everything I did was about her. Irina knew this, but didn't say a word.

It's not extremely difficult, you just go... pull the trigger... and leave. Cold, impersonal, perfect. Not much can go wrong, especially if the target is a mere civilian.

I arrive at the man's apartment. It's not particularly posh. The unsightly paint peeling, the welcome mat faded. Crushed cigarette butts litter the stairwell. Katrina's, perhaps.

Knock-knock on the wooden door. Crooked numbers, dull and rusted.

I hear a thud, heavy footfalls. A pause. Inhale... exhale. The doorknob jiggles. I raise my weapon.

He is standing before me. The gun is less than three feet away from his heart.

Hesitation.

Eyebrows raised. Not from fear... disbelief maybe. "I think you got the wrong house, man. Martin lives down the hall. He's on vacation though."

What the f--

Lowering the gun, I manage to mumble a few sentences. "Er, yes. Sorry to have bothered you. Good day." He closes the door. I just stand there. Immobilized.

Not quite sure what happened next. Just remember gripping the steering wheel and staring blankly at the little green pine tree that hung around the rearview mirror, it's fresh fragrance overwhelming my senses. I'm a bit shaken.

This... has never happened to me before. Even my first kill went smoothly. Unlike Katrina, I never had any qualms about termination or collateral damage. Never had doubts or worries. Until now.

It's all her fault.

I reach into my pocket then, and froze. The letter. I had written it in a burst of passion.

Gone.

* * *

She cradled his head in her lap. Tyler's unruly, light brown hair was sticky with blood. It seeped through her jeans. Not that she cared.

Michael would never know--he didn't do the laundry and apparently never got the concept of separating lights and darks. Katrina smiled wistfully as an image of him (holding up a lacy bra, expression priceless) danced in her head.

No one would be home for hours. She could stay here, watching the warmth slip from her friend's still corpse. Protect it from the wolves.

But this was LA. No wild animals here, only lethal lovers.

David. He did this. Bitterness invaded her taste buds again, but she forced it down.

It suddenly hit her. Being found at a crime scene, it wouldn't exactly help matters. So she took the note and gently lowered Tyler onto the carpet. Katrina brushed her lips against his... only to quickly pull away. The kiss was what killed him.

She could taste blood. Metallic and nauseating. Fleeing the apartment, she covered the stain on her pants with a sweatshirt, wiping her face on its sleeve. It had been his, borrowed when they went to the carnival and it started to rain.

Wandering through the streets, in a daze. Cars honked but she paid no heed. Water splashed on her arm. Without warning, Katrina snapped to attention... her head jerking violently. Had she been crying again? No, eyes were dry.

The sky... it had become overcast, somber. The world was dark gray and it was only afternoon. Ah, precipitation. That's what this liquid was.

A flash of lightning, nature's wrath. The heavens began to pour... releasing their sorrows. Realization came. All this aimless walking had led to an alley. A gloved hand grabbed her.

Responding instinctively, she sprung into action. Within seconds, the attacker was pinned against the building wall.

"Katrina."

The girl released her hold.

"David?"

An arm shot out and she collided with crumbling brick. The figure approaches.

"Shhh. I've got something to say." He kisses her softly. She doesn't recoil. A talented tongue parts her lips, slipping in. She isn't resisting. Hovering around her ear, he whispers. "I want you. I need you. I love you." She just whimpers. Strong hands roam her body, rubbing and raiding. She moans.

Something inside of Katrina finally kicks in. David is falling, falling, falling to the ground. Backing away slowly and then it's running, running, running home.

* * *

Michael was flabbergasted, to say the least.

"How can you know Agent Kendall? He's undercover. I mean, this is deep stuff!"

"Will saw him with Francie. Vaughn, why was he the prime suspect in these cases?"

Squinting at the glowing screen over her shoulder, he tilted his head slightly. "Huh. I have no idea."

"So he's okay? Not a bad guy?" she questioned anxiously.

"Jason's a good friend of mine. I haven't seen him in forever but--"

"Great! I mean, I'm just glad Francie isn't dating an axe murderer. Thanks." Michael, remembering Noah, felt his ears flame and hoped she couldn't tell under the dim light.

"Yeah. No problem." After making sure she'd left, he took the just-vacated seat. Frowning, he continued her search on 'Kendall, Jason'.

* * *

Katrina:

Took a shower after getting back. But I still feel dirty. Like the slushy snow on the streets of New York or the smog that threatens to suffocate San Francisco.

He touched me. And I let him. In fact, I wanted it.

How could my body betray me? And Michael? And Tyler?

Those same fingers David slithered under my shirt. Those same fingers pulled the trigger. Those same fingers did the unimaginable, causing both pleasure and pain...

I slaughtered my best friend and I love his executioner. Where did that come from? Love. On the breath of a madman. He says it like it's true. So why did he do this? What kind of love is that?

My mind is filled with a million voices. Clashing, clouding.

It was your fault. Tyler loved you. Past tense 'cause he's dead. Brutally annihilated. Gone forever. His heart isn't pumping. Blood, everywhere. Eyes, gazing eternally at his Judas.

David loves you. He's a cold-blooded--oh, wait. You are too. What if you love him back? You love the things he can do. That makes you even worse. Whore.

You hate him and Irina. And even Tyler for getting involved in your life. But most of all, yourself. Stupid girl. Love is death. The most Golden of The Rules. Deception is unavoidable.

I should have known. I can't let it happen again.

Because of Michael. My guardian who tries so hard to get away from work, wanting to spend time with me. The man who looks at me proudly, threatening to burst with brotherly affection. As if I was his own. Full of endearment, trust, devotion... love...

While I riffle through his things, giving them to a heartless woman that he loathes. No more.

I have to protect Michael. Whatever it takes. I won't let him turn out like Tyler.

* * *

David lay against the pavement, in a similar position to the man he supposedly killed. Putrid stenches filled his nostrils. There was a disgusting clump of... rubbish inches away from him.

Beeep.

He slowly gets on his feet and heads for the black BMW that stopped near the dumpster. Drops of water hit the leather.

"That was quite foolish of you, David."

"Irina. What is it?"

The woman on the television screen smirked. "I had someone finish your job for you."

"No," he groaned weakly. "She thinks it was me."

"That is irrelevant. The deed is done and that is that." Pursing her lips, his employer's face faded into darkness.

* * *

"Hey, Larry? Yeah, yeah, it's Vaughn. Can you pull a file for me?" Michael asked into a cell phone while walking between two crates. "Agent Kendall. Jason Kendall. Uh huh. I can wait."

He sat down. The laptop's white glow illuminated his features. A half dozen creases appeared.

"What do you mean? Okay. Alright then, just look for anything that relates to the Timothy Price, Cliff Stiller, and--That's exactly it. Hmm. What's that? Really! Are you sure? The Agency wouldn't--No kidding!"

A look of astonishment was appeared on Michael's face.

"Right, just get back to me as soon as possible. Mmm, I know I owe you big time. Thank you very much for this, Larry. Yes, I'll see you at the basketball game. Seven o' clock. Yep. Later."

He hung up. The wrinkles on his forehead tripled.

* * * * *

Author's Note: In the next chapter, we find that Tyler is related to someone Katrina knows. And the true murderer is revealed.

Questions, comments, suggestions, speculation, constructive criticism... I'll take what I can get. I really appreciate all the feedback!

I am forever indebted to my awesome beta reader, Shelly, who suggested the name of this chapter.

And many thanks to Jannah for bringing those imperative details to my attention.